


Would You Like Eyshadow With That?

by the4thvvall



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: AHS, Fluff, M/M, galangdon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 18:36:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17647787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the4thvvall/pseuds/the4thvvall
Summary: Michael has his own secret talent





	Would You Like Eyshadow With That?

Gallant was known for his occupation, and he by all means deserved to be. He was good at what he did, often experimenting different hairstyles on both Michael and Coco. Hair was just his thing, everyone had a thing that they flaunted at the Outpost to show they were “top dog” or whatever. Evie was an actress, Coco was rich, Mallory had her... powers. Little did everyone else know, but Michael had his thing too.   
Makeup.  
Although it was embarrassing to admit, Michael “The Antichrist” Langdon was a unprofessional makeup artist. Nobody had ever really known about it, not even anyone in the murder house. It was a secret that he was destined to keep to himself, but finally revealed when the day of the party came at Outpost 3.

It was quite possibly the biggest freak out that Michael has ever seen Gallant have. Even if he knew well that everyone was going to be nothing but a corpse soon, he still had the need to look his best. Michael couldn’t blame him, he was used to keeping up that image of being the sight for sore eyes in a room full of degenerates. That’s how he grew up. His nana trained him to be like that, and Michael felt bad. It wasn’t a big deal, but he hated seeing his boyfriend anxious.

Gallant was shoving things around his room, lifting up objects and tossing them to the side as he frantically searched around for his outfit accessory. “Where the hell did I put them?” He mumbled to himself, running a hand through his platinum blond hair. Michael sat on the vanity chair and watched him search the room like a crime scene, occasionally asking him if he’s checked in certain places.   
“Michael,” Gallant started, standing back up after searching under the bed, “can’t you use your powers to find them or something?” 

Michael shook his head and placed his hands on the armrests, pushing himself up off the chair. “You don’t need them, Gal,” he assured, walking over to the side of the bed that he was standing on. Now that he recalled, Michael doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Gallant without earrings in, but he certainly didn’t have to have them to look nice. He looked nice all the time. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Gallant sighed, his eyes flickering down to glance at his party outfit, “but it feels like I’m missing something.” 

Then, Michael had an idea. It’s not that Gallant needed something else to compliment his style, but he sure as hell would look good. “Let me do your makeup.” He instantly regretted his words as they left his mouth, watching his boyfriend’s jaw drop to the floor. 

“You? Makeup?” Gallant scoffed, “that’s funny.” Quite honestly, Michael was a bit offended. He didn’t really try on his own eyeshadow, but that’s just plain judgmental. 

“I’m great at it!” Michael exclaimed, taking Gallant’s hands in his own. “Trust me, you’ll forget all about those earrings if you just let me do this,” he said, grinning. Gallant pondered on it for a second, umber eyes scanning the room as he weighed the options.

“Fine,” Gallant answered, dragging out the word, “but if you mess up, you have to suck me off.” Michael didn’t see any downside to this, and nodded his head, pulling the shorter of the two back over to the vanity and forcing him to sit down. 

“I can’t believe you even brought makeup,” Gallant uttered, crossing his arms and throwing one leg over his other. Michael chuckled, reaching into the drawer to pull out some pallets and a few brushes. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Gal smirk and stifle a laugh. 

Michael rolled his eyes and opened an eyeshadow pallet, tapping the brush on the lid to remove any excess color that was there. “Don’t be a brat,” Michael said, dipping the brush into a deep purple, “I let you do my hair all the time and I never complain. Now close your eyes.”  
Indignant, Gallant obeyed, taking one last peek at himself in the mirror before letting his eyelids flutter closed. As soon as he was about to pipe up and ask what Michael was doing, the tickle of a brush touched the corner of his eye, moving in soft, small circles and occasionally running along near his eyelashes.   
“Mi-“ he started, but immediately getting cut off by his temporary stylist shushing him. 

“When you talk, you blink,” Michael interrupted, collecting more pigment on the end of the bristles and placing it back on Gallant’s eyelid. The room turned to a comfortable silence as Michael worked his magic, blending colors and whatnot. Usually, he just put a bit of color on the corner of his eyes. All of the colors other than red had barely or never been touched. He switched back and forth from eye to eye, perfecting it and making sure Gallant would favor it. 

When he finished, he closed the lid of the pallet and placed both it and the brush on the surface of the dressing table. “Open your eyes,” he told, leaning back against the wood. Gallant hesitated before letting his eyes slowly blink open. He stared at himself in the mirror, leaning forward to try and get a better look. It was hard to tell if he liked it or not, but the hidden blush with his grin revealed for itself. 

“It’s... pretty,” Gallant stated, rotating his head in different angles to catch different views. Michael smiled, it was pretty, but Gallant could wear anything and look pretty. 

“You want me to add more?” Michael asked, opening the drawer again and wrapping his fingers around a small cylinder bottle, pulling it out and popping it open when Gallant nodded, dropping his head in embarrassment. 

“I’m going to add mascara. It goes on your eyelashes,” Michael said, not knowing if the other knew what it was or not. Gallant twiddled his thumbs in his lap, not answering. Michael placed his hand on Gallant’s chin, tilting his head up so their eyes met. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, doll. I am the last person that would judge you for this; you look gorgeous, promise me,” Michael reassured him, watching as the blush spread across Gallant’s face, and to the tips of his ears. A grin spread on Michael’s face as he held up the mascara wand near Gallant’s eyelashes.

The extra volume was not needed at all, Gal’s lashes were already very long, but they were incredibly extensive once it was applied. “My eyes are heavy,” Gallant blurted, glancing around the room and blinking slowly. It was amusing to watch him play around with the new feeling, and Michael didn’t think he noticed how funny he looked; like a puppy.

“Michael,” he began, glancing up at his boyfriend and batting his lashes, “how do I look?”

“Like a princess, Gal,” Michael claimed, smiling and admiring his work. “You always do.”


End file.
